


Realizations

by cheyennesunrise, TimelessDreamer2



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Feelings, First Date, First Kiss, Jealous Finch, M/M, UST, flirty john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyennesunrise/pseuds/cheyennesunrise, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessDreamer2/pseuds/TimelessDreamer2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold's casual dinner evolves into something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realizations

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Dead Reckoning (2x13).

It was late, and the lights of the city, hid the heavy thick clouds that hung low with the promise of snow. A chill wind filled the streets but did little to keep people indoors. The bright lights harshly illuminated the harried people that were crowding the sidewalks. 

Harold Finch shivered and tugged at the collar of his heavy coat, absently smoothing a hand over his rich green tie, before burying his hands deep into his pockets again. 

“Where are we going again, Mr. Reese?” 

His voice was drowned out by the blaring horn of a passing taxi.

John looked back at Harold and flashed him a winning smile.

“We’re almost there, Finch,” he promised.

“Almost to _where_?” Harold pressed, wanting to be out of the biting wind. 

The smile grew slightly. “You’ll see.” John gave the same answer he had for the last ten minutes.

Harold removed a hand from his pocket to quickly wipe away a stray raindrop that had landed on his glasses.

“I didn’t remember reading anything about rain,” he muttered. Harold quickened his pace to keep up with John’s longer strides.

“That could be because the weather is random, Harold. Even you can’t know what it will do next.” John’s tone was full of that soft humor that so rarely made it’s appearance.

“Mr. Reese, you do know that the meteorologists use advanced mathematics and complex probability models to predict the weather, don’t you?”

Harold raised an eyebrow at John, but his voice was full of levity.

“Of course I do, Harold. I also know several thousand people that deal with tornadoes that would disagree with you.” John paused, then turned the corner. 

“Like you said, Mr. Reese, we can’t know everything. We just try to get a close as possible..,” he paused.

“Why are we stopping, Mr. Reese?”

Tucked away from the wind, thanks to the rather large building blocking most of it, John shook his head. “Just picking our dinner spot, Harold.” He scanned the small area before settling on the perfect place for their date, even if he hadn’t told Harold that was what they were doing. “Ah, there.”

Harold followed John’s gaze and instantly recognized the restaurant that John had chosen. It was small, nondescript, full of old world Italian charm with its red-checkered tablecloths and brick storefront.

“Good choice, Mr. Reese. However, I do have one remaining question: what’s the occasion?” 

“So suspicious, Harold. Do we honestly need a reason to eat?” John dodged the question as he held the door, letting the shorter man go in first. 

Harold opened his mouth as if to say something, but he shook the thought and followed John to the host’s stand.

They were greeted by a portly fellow, who was even shorter than Harold. His smile was wide and friendly, as he greeted them. 

“Welcome! Just two?” Bustling around before either could answer, he chattered cheerfully all the way to the table. “We have excellent pasta this evening; fettuccine alfredo with asparagus, along with a lovely white; Sauvignon Blanc, not to mention our chef makes an excellent steak.” He chuckled a bit and patted his belly as he paid two menus in the table. “It will be just a moment, Gentlemen.”

A smirk flitted over Johns face as they took their seats, obviously amused. “Well, that is a ringing recommendation, huh, Harold?” 

Harold nodded quickly as he took his seat. He grabbed a menu and flipped through the first few pages, seemingly absorbed by the decadent descriptions of pasta e fagioli and tiramisu.

He didn’t even notice the waiter who appeared to have materialized out of nowhere at the head of their table.

“Imported wine? Clams oreganata? Mr. Reese, this menu is exquisite,” Harold said breathlessly.

John’s eyes flicked upward to the waiter, then back down to his menu. “Umm hmm. But.. what are you going to drink, Harold? This nice young man is waiting on you.” 

“Hm? Oh, I apologize,” Harold said quickly. “I’ll have the Pinot Grigio, please.”

“Excellent choice, sir,” the waiter replied.

“And for your companion?”

“Sauvignon Blanc, please.” John didn’t know near as much about wine as Harold did, but he had tried that one before, under a suggestion from Harold. 

Once the man had left to collect their wine, John looked over at Harold. “So, are you satisfied with the place? You were so worried about it earlier.”

“Very much so, Mr. Reese. Thank you,” Harold said softly. He paused, and then he met John’s eyes again.

“You never did answer my question earlier, Mr. Reese. I realize that our line of work often forces us to order take out, but we rarely go out to dinner together. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you want to come here tonight?”

For a brief minute, John considered actually telling Harold the truth, that it was a date, but there was that lingering doubt that Harold would simply stand up and leave, If he waited though, until the food arrived, Harold’s manners would never let him. “Usually, we’re too busy to do more than take out. But, Bear is with Lionel, our Number is safely on a plane to Seattle, and personally, I don’t see a reason not to.”

Harold cleared his throat.

“I hope that I do not seem ungrateful, Mr. Reese, because I certainly am. I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright,” he admitted.

One eyebrow rose, as John set his menu to the side. “Why wouldn’t it be? Does it have to be dire straights for me to offer to share a meal with you?” 

“No, no, of course not. I was just wondering if all of that time alone was starting to get to you,” Harold said softly. He reached across the table and placed a hesitant hand on John’s forearm.

“John, if this is related to Ms. Stanton and the bomb, then-,” Harold faltered. He bit his lip and quickly looked away from John.

A frown flew across John’s face almost too quickly to see. “Nothing like that, Harold. Or is there somewhere else you’d prefer to be?” John was going to say something else but the waiter appeared before he could. John decided that he was going to dock the man’s tip. 

Harold took the glass and studied the wine carefully, his face a mask of indifference.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Are you ready to order, Gentlemen?” the waiter asked brightly.

“Yes. I’ll have the steak please, medium, no mushrooms.” John passed the menu over, and looked at Harold with a curious tilt of his head. 

“I’ll have the swordfish, please,” Harold said. He handed the menu to the waiter and folded his hands in his lap.

“John,” he began, “I apologize for my previous comment. It was out of line. I certainly don’t feel burdened by being here with you. In fact, I vastly prefer it to spending the evening alone.”

Harold’s eyes were still intently focused on his hands, and there was a faint tremor to his voice.

John shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “I’m sure, Harold, that you don’t have to spend any evenings alone.” 

“I am quite used to it, Mr. Reese, I assure you,” Harold said hollowly. He lifted his eyes and studied John’s face, worrying that he had said too much.

Taking a sip of the wine, John kept his eyes firmly on Harold. “Is that right? Then we should do this more often. Then neither of us have to spend all those nights alone.” 

Harold felt the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Mr. Reese, a-are you suggesting-,” he stammered.

“I’m pretty sure we aren’t working Harold. Besides, you just called me John a moment ago.” There was a slight hint of challenge in John’s voice, even if his expression hadn’t changed. 

“What does that have to do with anything, Jo-,” Harold caught himself, “Mr. Reese?”

“Well, Harold, look at it like this.” John let a small smile curl the edges of his mouth upward. “We’re here, in a nice restaurant, having a good meal after a day that did not involve any bullets. So, we should relax and simply enjoy it. Don’t you think?” 

Harold paused and then nodded begrudgingly. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped neatly, savoring the crisp, sweet wine for a moment.

Harold studied John’s expression for a moment before opening his mouth.

“Yes, you’re right,” he admitted. 

John nodded, looking pleased, then made an absent comment about something Lionel had said, turning the entire thing into a joke at the poor Detective’s expense. He managed to keep a light conversation going until the waiter arrived with their food. 

Setting down first Harold and then John’s food, the man smiled brightly. “If there is anything else that you need, please let me know…” The tone started out pleasant and dropped into suggestive, aimed directly at John, since the waiter’s eyes were fixed on the tall man’s face. 

“That will be _all_ , thank you,” Harold said sharply. He glared at the waiter, noting the young man’s lovesick expression with disdain.

John looked blankly at the waiter, then at Harold in slight surprise. Maybe this date wouldn’t be a complete waste after all. Especially if Harold didn’t like the man flirting. Almost absently, John watched as the waiter scurried away. “Something the matter, Harold?” 

“Why do you ask that, Mr. Reese?” Harold asked defensively. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen to check if the waiter was out of sight.

“Oh.. I don’t know, maybe because we’re back to ‘Mr. Reese’?” John gave Harold a look, before studying his food. 

“Are you being intentionally difficult?” Harold shot back, careful to avoid calling John by any name.

“Not intentionally no.” John shrugged again, seemingly willing to let the matter go. He had plans after this and he wasn’t going to let anyone mess them up. 

“Did you see the way that he looked at you?” Harold said suddenly. His voice was sharp, terse.

“He was practically devouring you with his eyes, John.”

John looked up and met Harold’s eyes. “Honestly? No. I didn’t notice, I was too busy paying attention to you, Harold.” Mentally shooting himself for that overly honest reply, John immediately tucked a piece of steak in his mouth. 

Harold’s eyes widened. He felt a blush creep up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“John, I-,” he began. Harold quickly turned his attention to the beautifully-prepared swordfish in front of him.

He cut a small piece of the fish with a precise, delicate motion and lifted it to his lips. Harold kept his gaze away from John.

Despite having looked up at his name, John didn’t say anything for several minutes. The silence was almost awkward now, and that simply wouldn’t do. “So... I was wondering, What we should do after we eat.” 

Harold paused for a moment.

“Well, we certainly have a lot to talk about, John. Perhaps we should wait until after we finish dinner to decide,” he said quietly.

Despite his interest in whatever it was Harold was hinting at, John offered a short nod and turned his attention back to his dinner, deciding that the host was absolutely right, the steak was good. 

They ate in silence for a while. Harold carefully savored the fish, offering mindless comments about the quality of the meal and the charm of the rustic decor.

Several minutes later, he noticed the infuriatingly flirtatious waiter on the periphery of his vision.

“Did you enjoy your meal tonight, gentlemen?” he asked, dragging out the last word in a sing-song voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Harold said tightly.

The waiter turned his attention to John.

John nodded, and motioned to their glasses. “Yes, but I think we’d like another, right, Harold?” He lowered his voice a bit, on his partner’s name.

The waiter, despite it not being directed at him, actually shivered a bit, at the low sound. 

Harold tried not to roll his eyes as he added a curt, “fine.”

The waiter didn’t notice Harold’s tone; his eyes were still glued to John.

“Right away,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk.

“Was that necessary, John?” Harold asked angrily.

Now, John looked slightly confused. “Was what necessary? I thought we were going to discuss our plans for after dinner. We don’t have to get more wine.”

“You know what I meant. The waiter, John! He was all over you _again_! You did that- that thing with your eyes and your- your voice,” Harold sputtered, clearly embarrassed by his outburst.

“At the waiter?” Now, John really was confused. Why would he flirt with the waiter? Especially on a date with Harold? “Wait.. what thing?” 

“Nevermind!” Harold exclaimed. “It’s not important, John. You were obviously aware of your power over that young waiter and you were shamelessly flirting with him.”

Harold stopped himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

John sat there, almost stunned, then shook his head. “I can honestly tell you, Harold, that I’ve only flirted with one person tonight, and it wasn’t the waiter.” Slipping out of the booth, John made a gesture toward the restrooms. 

Harold’s eyes widened. “What, now?” he whispered incredulously.

“What about the wine?” he added.

“I’m just going to the bathroom, Harold. We’ll have it when I get back.” 

“Fine, fine,” Harold said quickly. He folded his napkin again, tracing the velvet edges absentmindedly as he waited for the waiter to return.

There was an obvious look of disappointment on the young man’s face when he delivered the new glasses of wine, yet, he still boldly, slipped a bit of paper under John’s glass. 

Harold narrowed his eyes as the waiter quickly withdrew his hand.

“Sorry, old man, but I can’t let a guy like that slip through my fingers,” he said with a shrug.

Harold’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Please bring us our check,” he said under his breath. As soon as the waiter disappeared, he grabbed the slip of paper and shoved it under his napkin.

John came back, and slipped into the booth. “Are you okay, Harold?” He picked up his fresh glass and sipped it. 

“Everything’s fine, John,” he said quietly. “You missed our waiter friend, though.”

Again, that eyebrow went up. “Oh? Shall I shoot him?” It was obvious, that the waiter had offended Harold in some way. “Or should we just leave and have our talk during a walk?” John made a point to keep his tone casual. 

“Please don’t joke about that, John,” Harold said firmly. His expression softened as he looked up at John.

“And yes, a walk would be nice.”

Harold calculated the cost of the food and the wine, careful to avoid giving their waiter an exorbitant tip.

He folded two crisp hundred dollar bills on the table. “That should cover it.”

John looked at the amount and just shook his head. “If you say so Harold.” Sliding out of the booth again, John waited patiently, until Harold was also standing before heading toward the door, pausing only long enough to slip a ten into the host’s hand, before once again holding the door for Harold. 

Harold murmured a brief “thank you” and braced himself for the wall of cold air that was waiting for them on the other side of the door.

John frowned. “Maybe a walk is a bad idea…” It was much colder now than it had been when they arrived, but in all honesty, John was hoping that Harold could stand it for just a bit longer. 

“No, it’s quite all right, John,” Harold said softly, musically. There was a distinct warmth to his voice as he looked up and met John’s gaze with a grin.

An answering smile appeared. “Good. Now we can talk about all those things you mentioned earlier.” John started off, planning the shortest route to Central Park, as easily as Harold had tallied their meal earlier. 

“I’m not sure where to start, John,” Harold admitted. He pursed his lips and let his eyes drift across the steady flow of people and lights.

As they made their way down the sidewalk, Harold considered his next words, carefully measuring the possibilities, the outcomes.

Accepting the answer easily, and knowing that Harold never did or said anything by half measures, John simply tucked his hands into the pockets of his wool overcoat, and kept pace with his partner, their shoulders brushing every now and then. 

Harold followed suit, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning against the cold. He felt John’s presence beside him, and a smile spread across his face.

“Let’s go to the Park,” he said suddenly. “There’s a wonderful little stand there. I always get chestnuts there every winter.” 

There was a twinkle in Harold’s eye as they headed toward the park.

“Sounds good. I was thinking about something warm to drink myself. Maybe from that stand near the fountain.” For a minute, John wondered what Harold was up to, and then decided that it really didn’t matter, after all his partner was still walking with him. 

When they arrived at the stand several minutes later, Harold was brimming with excitement. His breath puffed out in tiny, wispy clouds as he looked back at John and motioned for the younger man to join him.

“This is it, John!” he exclaimed. Harold ordered a bag of warm chestnuts and a tea for himself. He looked at John expectantly.

“Hot chocolate.” It was different from his usual order or coffee, but the chestnuts would taste better with the chocolate than it would the coffee. Then, he pulled out a slightly crumpled bill, and slid it over to the stall keeper before Harold could. “Since you bought dinner, Harold.” Again, John’s voice dropped on the last word. 

“Thank you, John,” Harold said softly. He pulled out a chestnut and handed the bag to John.

“Try them while they’re still warm,” he said with a grin.

John, who had been about to take a drink, paused, looking over at Harold. “Alright…” Shifting his hold on the cup, John reached in and took a couple for himself. “Granted… I don’t know how you can eat these with tea.” 

“I suppose we all have our own peculiarities,” Harold mused. He took a sip of the tea and looked over at John.

“John, would you like to continue our previous discussion elsewhere?” he asked suddenly.

Instantly, John’s head came up, and he stared for a minute at Harold, like he was trying to figure out exactly what was going on. After a full minute, he nodded. “I don’t see why not.” He scanned the Park, just in case. 

“We can walk around the perimeter of the park if you wish. I just- I wanted to address something, John,” Harold began.

The idea of walking through the Park, after dark didn’t sit very well with John and Harold’s suggestion would certainly ease his mind a bit. “I think that would be better.” After another minute of scanning the area, he returned most of his attention to Harold. “So, what are we talking about?” 

“I- well, nothing in particular, John. I did want to say that I had a wonderful time tonight. I apologize for questioning you about your...intentions at the restaurant. I was just being overly cautious, I suppose,” Harold said slowly.

Now, Harold had all of John’s attention. “Well that’s good.” He took a drink of the warm chocolate and another chestnut, offering the bag to Harold. “But.. since the waiter seemed to offend you, maybe we shouldn’t go back there…” 

Harold took another chestnut. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“If you insist,” he said wryly.

“I am also sorry for being so hesitant to join you, John. We should do this more often. It is far preferable to spending the evening alone,” he admitted.

“ _Good_.” The word was said in the same low whisper that John had used before, almost a purr, if a person could make such a sound. “I enjoyed the evening too, granted that might have been because of the company.” 

John’s voice sent a visible shudder through Harold’s body.

“John, please,” he whispered. There was a tremble in his voice.

“Please what, Harold?” John took a half step closer, leaning slightly. “Please stop teasing? I’m not. I’m being honest.” Deciding to simply go for broke, since that was how he tended to do everything, John laid all his cards down in a way that not even Harold could misinterpret. “I took you on a date, Harold. Now, I’m going to kiss you.” He grinned briefly before proving he meant what he said and kissed Harold in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring at all for the other people milling about. 

Harold’s eyes widened, but they quickly fluttered shut as he leaned up into the kiss, savoring the taste of hot chocolate and chestnuts and John.

‘ _What were they doing_?’ Harold’s rational mind was alive with questions, but they were quickly quieted as he lifted a hand and placed it gingerly at the back of John’s head.

John made a low sound, and slid just a bit closer, deepening the soft, chaste kiss into something more intimate, far more obvious. It wasn’t until someone let out a loud catcall that John pulled back, eyes studying Harold face, looking for a positive reaction. 

Harold’s eyes were bright and full of wonder, and he was beaming. He stood straight and proud, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he was beaming at John.

“So, John, where to?” he asked.

John’s answering smile was wide enough to cause that slight crinkle at the edge of his eyes. “Well, Harold.. I’m thinking somewhere a little quieter....” He left the statement open, perfectly willing to see what Harold wanted. 

Harold’s eyebrows shot up, but there was a small smile on his face as he and John left the park.


End file.
